


Locked Out

by baranduin



Series: No Night Is Too Long [16]
Category: No Night is Too Long (2002)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does Ivo do that first night when he tries to get into Tim's room on the Favonia and Tim's wedged a chair beneath the door knob?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fanfic100 community challenge #074--Dark.

Ivo sits outside Tim's door. It is late and the crew and passengers on the Favonia are all tucked up in their beds, whether above deck in the posh cabins (or at least what passes for posh and that's not saying a lot) or below, riding beneath the ocean swells that toss the little ship around like a cork in an unruly bathtub.

And that's how Ivo feels as he slumps against Tim's door, his knuckles raw and sore from pounding on the metal hours earlier when he tried to shove his way inside the cabin. When he stopped long enough to listen, he could hear stealthy movements—the careful rustle of bedcovers, the quiet squeak of bedsprings, the click of a light being snapped off. And then there'd been silence. He'd crept away then. It had been early enough that someone might pass along the narrow hallway, and he could not afford to be found there.

But now he is back, huddled on the floor like some unwanted dog that scratches at the kitchen door and then leans against it when it does not open. And it does not open. Just as the bereft dog does not comprehend, so Ivo does not understand. He is now in a state of confusion unknown to him from prior experience, and that is intolerable to him. He does not know what he has done wrong other than engage in his normal actions and reactions, which he realizes can on occasion be interpreted as less than understanding and generous. But hadn't he tried to make it up to Tim? Hadn't he?

At two in the morning, the hallway lights go off. Though there is no accompanying sound, the absence of light wakes Ivo immediately. He knows this because he can still see a bit of a halo glow from one of the bulbs though it soon fades into blackness. He is stiff and cold on the floor. His neck in particular aches for in his sleep he has apparently rested it against the door in an awkward position. His knees pop when he gets up. He stands with his forehead pressed to the cold metal door, the thick, uneven paint scraping his skin as he rubs back and forth against it for a moment while he considers whether to try again.

"Fuck him," Ivo finally says and makes his way to his own cabin. He has to feel his way with care for the halls are narrow and there are many places where he must step up or make a turn. Given the unpredictable nature of the ocean's moods and their effect on the Favonia's stability, it is an awkward thing to negotiate when lit. Without any light to guide him, it becomes a difficult task. By the time he reaches his cabin and the shelter of his bed with its dank covers, he feels a bruise or two already forming. He suspects one in particular—his hip connected forcefully at one point with far too sharp an edge—will be the most unrelieved purple black.

Ivo does not turn on the lamp or bother to get undressed before climbing into bed. But he does fall asleep quickly and is soon tossing about on a dark ocean, all unknowing whether he is looking up at a clouded night sky or into the depths of the sea. He does not wake until the morning is well advanced and someone is knocking at the door.

He answers it right away.


End file.
